


A Working Malfoy

by alchemicals



Series: Draco Malfoy is Very Pretty [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Draco Malfoy is very pretty, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Smut, Draco is a stripper, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Dry Sex, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, Pining, Strippers & Strip Clubs, lap dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicals/pseuds/alchemicals
Summary: Harry just wanted to feel like a normal 18-year-old at his own birthday surprise. He never signed up for a lap dance from Draco Malfoy.





	A Working Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask where this came from - even I have no clue ;-; Leave a kudos if you enjoy it!

The outside of the club looks innocuous enough - Harry thinks that's why he's not as apprehensive about this whole thing.

Ron's glee is illuminated by the neon purple sign, the light shading his hair a maroon color that Harry sort of wishes he'd try. It looks good on him. Dean and Seamus have fucked off somewhere inside the club hours earlier, probably waiting for them at a procured table. Harry's excited, he really is, his hands are sort of shaking and he stuffs them into the pockets of his skinny jeans to hide the tremors. Ginny had dressed him, along with Parkinson of all people, and they'd shoved a transparent black shirt and a leather jacket at his face. Harry has to admit he looks good, especially with his curls ruffled artistically around his head and his glasses somewhere on his bedside table, leaving his vibrant eyes exposed to the world.

"Ready to have the time of your life, mate?" Ron asks, grabbing onto Harry's elbow.

Harry smiles brightly, unable to help himself. "Yeah - yeah, ready as I'll ever be."

Nodding, his best friend drags him to the front of the massive collection of wizards and witches alike all huddled by the front door, where a bouncer stands twirling her wand. At first glance, Harry thinks she must be some sort of descendant of Hagrid's. Her dark hair is cut short enough that she can fit it all underneath a leather witch's hat, and her golden eyes make Harry feel just that little bit threatened. She takes one look at his forehead, though - Ginny had left his scar visible for all to see, part of the 'process of not being a hermit, anymore' although Harry feels like it's rather redundant - and stands back. The door, freshly polished and gleaming in the night, swings open, and suddenly the quiet of the night is filled with roaring music that almost scares him.

Ron grins at the bouncer who flushes a bit too prettily for a woman twice their size, before he glides in, Harry grasping onto the hand on his arm.

The first thing Harry sees are scantily-clad people on floating, multicolored poles, which he'd expected so it's not like it comes as a surprise. But he'd never expected that all of it, the smoke, the heat, the sensual music, to affect him as it does. After 18 years of Voldemort-imposed celibacy, Harry doesn't know what to do when his eyes glance over at a male dancer grinding in some lucky man's face.  _Oh, Merlin,_ he thinks. And that's the end of his thinking for the night.

"Alright, mate?" Ron shouts over the music. Harry nods minutely, his eyes taking it all in. "We've set up a room for you - one free lap dance, courtesy of yours truly."

Harry forces himself to look at Ron. "Sorry, what?"

Ron quirks his lips. "Don't worry, it'll be the bloody best thing you've ever done."

Before Harry can ask what he's about to  _do,_ exactly, Ron's already flashing a badge at somebody in front of a desk, and they hand Harry a key. Ron pats him on the back, stepping back and folding his arms like a proud Father. Harry opens the door to the far room on the right - the one shrouded in shadows that almost makes it impossible for him to stuff the key in the keyhole because it's so dark. Stepping inside, he shuts the door behind him.

There's nothing in the room apart from a plush armchair and a table filled with various cocktails and mojitos. The walls are a trendy black wood with large shapes cut into it, different colored light illuminating from the different shapes. 

"Set your stuff on the table and sit in the chair, I'll be out in a moment."

Harry almost jumps out of his skin at the voice.

He does as he's told, and as he sits in the chair, he can't help but feel as though he's heard that voice before. His leg jiggles a bit, betraying his nerves. There's a door on his left, which is really more of an archway covered in those dangling crystals that don't do much to hide the view on the other side. If Harry leans out of his chair a bit... he catches glimpses of white-blonde hair streaked in colors and a rounded arse.

Images, unbidden, flash across his mind. Arms clutched around his torso as heat licks at their feet. Grey eyes alight with malice so bright it turns them quicksilver. Grey eyes dulled down to the color of lead from months in Azkaban. The soft fullness of a mouth he's watched for so many years.

Harry doesn't think his heart could take it if Malfoy walks out from that room.

 

+++

 

Malfoy walks out from that room.

At first, he doesn't see Harry because he's busy tousling his hair and adjusting the Muggle kimono he has on. It's a little slip-on thing made of silk in black with splashes of color in the form of birds are luminescent, glowing neon light in the dim room. When he finally catches sight of Harry, it's when he's right in front of him.

"Potter." 

"Er - hi." Harry wonders if he should stand up and shake his hand or something. "Malfoy, um, what are you doing here?"

Malfoy frowns, a little downward pull of the corner of his lips that makes Harry sorry he even asked. Malfoy steps forward and brings with him the scent of fresh lavender coated in almond milk. It's unusually sexy, and Harry tries not to let his instant arousal show. The amount of times he'd casually wanked off to the man right in front of him makes him almost blush, but he reigns himself in.

Malfoy pushes Harry back into the armchair, helping him relax his limbs.

"Me?" Malfoy murmurs while working. "Apparently, I'm here to give the Chosen One the lap dance of his life."

Harry sort of wishes he could do more than stare at the blonde, but it's hard focusing on anything when those pink lips are so close to his face. Before he can embarrass himself by reaching up and tracing the outline of them, Malfoy steps back. Only to drop his kimono in one graceful movement. Harry almost self-combusts.

"Lap dance?" He's impressed with himself when he doesn't stumble over the words.

The smirk that crosses Malfoy's features does nothing but make him more attractive, lightening his eyes and pulling his cheeks across his cheekbones softly. "And a kiss, if you want it."

Harry almost screams 'YES!'. "I mean, if you're offering then I won't say no," he says instead.

And then he loses the ability to say anything at all when Malfoy turns around and shows off his arse clad in the silky green boxers he's wearing. Shooting a smile at Harry over his shoulder, Mafloy starts twisting his hips, and music starts slowly from somewhere behind Harry. It's a Muggle song - and Malfoy dances beautifully to it. Long, lean limbs twine sinuously over his body, and Harry watches with avid eyes, only half-ashamed when he blooms to full hardness in his tight jeans. Malfoy walks backward until the back of his knees hit Harry's, and then Harry can't help himself.

He reaches out and places a hand on the round rump of Malfoy's arse. 

"I'm not supposed to let you touch me," Malfoy says lightly, as though holding a conversation about the current status of the British Economy. Harry just grunts, sliding his palm across the soft fabric, pressing trembling fingers to the small of Malfoy's back and digging his blunt nails in. "Oh, fuck," Mafloy's slight moan echoes in the room.

Harry's boxers are soaked, somehow.

His breathing almost stops when Malfoy turns around, lowering himself onto Harry's lap with strong legs. Malfoy looks down at Harry, a radiant look on his face. He's gotten less pointy in the past few months and Harry can tell he's recovered somewhat from Azkaban and his Trials. The blonde wraps his arms around Harry's neck, pressing his nose into his jawline. Harry's hips buck involuntarily up at the pressure, and pleasure explodes from the very essence of his being. 

"Patience, Potter," Malfoy tuts, reaching beneath him and squeezing the head of Harry's cock through his jeans. "Not today."

Implying that there will be other days. Harry stops himself from asking and instead watches as Malfoy's grip tightens around his neck and he starts grinding. If you could call it that. To Harry, it feels more of a glorified hump, with Malfoy's hardness pressed against his stomach.

"Do you - " Harry pauses as the twist of Malfoy's hips almost careens him off of the edge. "Do you get hard for everybody that comes in?"

The blonde's ministrations almost slow, but he keeps going regardless. "What would you do if I said no?"

Harry doesn't understand why his heart soars at that. "I can't really do much." He pushes his hips up to rub his covered length over Malfoy's arse to illustrate his point. 

He can feel Malfoy smile against the skin of his neck. "Relax, Potter. I've never so much as set foot in this club before. I've only ever gone to a Muggle one three times before I quit."

Harry wants to scream. "So you're here just for me?"

Malfoy grinds down and somehow forward at the same time, and Harry takes his head off of Malfoy's shoulder to watch the other man. He takes one hand away from his arse and presses gently on Malfoy's balls through his boxers. Malfoy makes the sweetest mewling sound, a high-pitched keen from the back of his throat, and Harry feels a rush of wetness against his stomach. Harry would be disappointed that they didn't last long, but Malfoy had said  _next time._

"Merlin," Malfoy hisses, holding tight onto Harry as his orgasm rips through him, his face melting into an expression of pure pleasure. Harry rubs his thumb against Malfoy's slit and grins when Malfoy takes the slight jolt of pain from the sensitivity. He keeps doing it, watching the blonde squirm between intense discomfort and intense pleasure. Finally, he lets go, and Malfoy jolts in his arms, moaning softly.

"You don't know how many people I had to get through to be assigned to you," he whispers softly, not looking at Harry. Instead, Malfoy continues his slow grind to the music, and Harry sees stars.

When Harry comes down from his high, and Malfoy's curled in his lap, he presses his lips to Malfoy's, capturing them.

For a moment, Malfoy sits there, rigid and stiff, but Harry grabs a fistful of hair and pulls. Then the blonde relaxes, somewhat, enough for Harry to grab his kiss quickly before Malfoy rips his lips away and getting up in one fluid movement. Harry doesn't say anything as Malfoy fixes his hair and puts on the kimono, but he gets to his feet as Malfoy opens the door to leave.

"Relax, Potter." Malfoy throws an enigmatic smile over his shoulder at Harry. "I'll see you in Eighth Year."

And Harry thinks that this is possibly the best birthday he's ever had.

 

 

 

 


End file.
